Love On Call

by Radclyffe

  “How did you know?” Mari asked softly.

  “You shivered, and your pulse jumped.” Glenn kissed her, a tender kiss that grew firmer, claiming her even as it soothed. “And we agreed not to do that today.”

  Mari didn’t have to ask what Glenn meant. Glenn always seemed to know what she needed, or at least what she said she needed. The now. That’s what she’d asked for. She couldn’t offer more, even though she couldn’t live in the now. She never had. She’d always counted on the future, planned for it, and once faced with the reality that a future might never exist, she’d reluctantly accepted that life held no promises. And that she could make none. “Can you do that? The now?”

  Glenn traced soft circles on Mari’s skin, trails of fire and tears. “When you wake up every day knowing the sunrise might be the last you’ll ever see, you learn to stop thinking beyond the moment. After a while you forget things were ever any different.”

  “I know something about that.” Mari covered Glenn’s hand, ran her fingertip the length of her oh-so-sensitive fingers. She didn’t have to explain. Glenn understood what she’d faced during those long months of treatment, the uncertainty and, finally, the resignation. Only a fool would trust to fate. “So you know what I mean, about not plan—”

  “Right now,” Glenn said gently, brushing another kiss over her lips, stealing her apology, sealing the guilt away, “I’m going to find you something to eat. Can’t have you losing strength just yet.”

  Mari laughed, surprising herself. Maybe Glenn really could hold her in the now. She certainly had made her incredibly happy for the last few hours. “Are you really hungry?”

  “You have no idea.” Glenn’s voice was husky, her gaze the stormy gray of a coming gale.

  “I am too.” Mari wrapped her legs around Glenn’s and pulled her completely on top of her, fitting their bodies together, breast and belly and thighs. She arched under her, inviting, wanting, wanton. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Never.” Glenn’s lids fluttered half closed and she groaned. Bracing herself on her arms, she rocked between Mari’s thighs, firmly, rhythmically, steadily building, unbearably taunting, ceaseless demanding. “I can’t get close enough to you.”

  Mari gripped Glenn’s shoulders, matched her lift and thrust, giving herself over to the heat and the power. When she needed more, she swept the bunched muscles of Glenn’s back down to her ass and pulled her even closer, reaching, climbing, clawing her way to the peak. When she exploded, she cried out, and Glenn gathered her up with unbearable tenderness.

  Mari buried her face in the curve of Glenn’s neck, gasping for breath. “I can feel you everywhere inside me.”

  Glenn held back the words she desperately wanted to say. Let me stay. I need you. She shuddered, a need far different than any she’d ever known roaring through her.

  “It’s all right,” Mari whispered, for the first time misunderstanding Glenn’s body language. “Let me make you come.”

  Glenn jerked in a breath, focused on the now. She knew the terms of engagement. This moment, no more. “Touch me.”

  Mari pushed on her shoulders, rolling her over, rising above her.

  Glenn stroked her breasts, her abdomen, the curve of her hips. “You’re beautiful.”

  Mari swept her hair back with a hand, smiling down at her. “You have a wonderful way of distracting me, but not just yet.” She slid her hand between Glenn’s thighs and squeezed, fingers already knowing exactly where to press.

  Glenn’s spine bowed and white heat lashed her brain. Her teeth clamped tight on a strangled groan. Somewhere light laughter cut through the sweet torture. Mari didn’t take her over quickly this time. She stroked and teased until Glenn couldn’t breathe.

  “Please,” Glenn gasped.

  Mari bent down, her breasts brushing Glenn’s, and kissed her. “Please what?”

  “Please now.”

  “Oh yes,” Mari whispered, stroking as she filled her, sliding in, gliding out, never stopping. “Now. Now you’re mine.”

  Another lifetime later, Glenn groaned and tried to sit up. Boneless, she gave up and contented herself with stroking Mari’s back where she lay curled against her. “I’m done.”

  Mari laughed and rubbed her cheek against Glenn’s breast. “I thought you soldier types had more stamina.”

  “Clearly out of practice.”

  Mari grew still. “I never asked, I just assumed…”

  “There’s no one.”

  No one. Mari knew what that was like, to be alone. Had known. Knew in her heart that was no longer true. She sat up, smiled brightly. “Someone promised me food.”

  Glenn felt the change, the click of distance settle between them. Two in the afternoon. They’d had three hundred and sixty minutes, twenty thousand seconds. Enough of a gift to compress into a lifetime.

  “Cold pizza? Scrambled eggs?” Glenn sat up, giving Mari the space she’d silently asked for.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Glenn committed the light in Mari’s eyes to memory. She’d remember the happiness of this moment, knowing the truth of it. “Both?”

  Mari kissed her. “Yes, both. Everything. I need another shower.”

  “So do I,” Glenn said, letting Mari decide.

  “Come with me.”

  *

  Glenn called Flann a little after one a.m. When Flann picked up the phone, she sounded as if she was wide-awake, just like always. All told, married life hadn’t seemed to change her all that much, only the restlessness was gone.

  “Why do you never call me with good news?” Flann asked.

  “What fun would that be?”

  Flann chuckled. “What have you got?”

  “Believe it or not, a gunshot wound to the hand.”

  “Member of the service?” Flann said quickly, referring to those in uniform—law enforcement agents, firemen, first responders.

  “No, a ten-year-old boy who for some reason was up long after his parents had gone to bed. Apparently there was a party and they weren’t paying too much attention. He found—get this—his mother’s twenty-five caliber in her purse and decided to take it apart to see how it worked.”

  “Jesus. How bad is it?”

  “Not bad enough to need ortho. Metacarpal is fractured, but looks like a washout and a splint will take care of it for now. You want me to call them?”

  “Nah,” Flann said. “If you do, it’ll take until dawn for them to get there and then the OR will be backed up tomorrow. You and I can have it done in an hour. Call the OR.”

  “Already done. Consent’s signed and he’s in the holding area with his grandmother. His parents—well, I didn’t think they were quite in any state to sign consent.”

  “Pretty sure I was coming in, huh?”

  “Never known you to pass up a case.”

  Flann laughed. “I haven’t heard from you at night for a while.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing much tonight.”

  “Saturday night.”

  “Like I said, the OR’s ready.”

  Flann must’ve taken the hint. She didn’t even bother trying to get a rise out of her. “See you there in fifteen.”

  Glenn hung up and looked around the empty surgeon’s lounge with its outdated, cracked vinyl sofas and mismatched end tables littered with cups and takeout containers, and felt more at home than in her apartment. She’d sat there a thousand times before, just like this, and the only thing that had changed was her. Mari had left soon after their shower and cold pizza meal, and she hadn’t been able to do anything since except think about the way Mari had felt stretched out above her, the way Mari had taken her and allowed herself to be taken. By the time she’d decided she was going to make herself crazy if she didn’t stop, it was already dark, and the best place to be on a lonely Saturday night was the ER. A couple of the nurses gave her a knowing look when she walked in and scanned the board for a case to evaluate, but everyone welcomed her back. Old home week.

  She closed
her eyes and let her mind go blank, an old habit that allowed her to be ready for anything at an instant’s notice, but kept her from thinking when there was nothing to be done about anything. Not the next mission, the next emergency, the next death on her watch.

  A foot nudged her leg. “Yo, sleeping beauty. You done with your beauty rest?”

  Glenn cracked an eye and grinned up at Flann. “I only need a couple minutes, but I let you sleep most of the night.”

  “You doing all right?” Flann asked with unaccustomed seriousness.

  Glenn flushed, wondering how much showed in her face. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know anymore.”

  “Mari?”

  “Yeah.” Glenn couldn’t deny her.

  Flann’s grin widened, part sympathy, part amusement. “Believe me, I’ve been there, and I’m still there. But take it from me, it gets a lot worse before it gets better.”

  Glenn shoved herself to her feet. “Thanks, I knew I could always count on you.”

  *

  “You know what, my mama ought to be taking the biscuits out of the oven right about now,” Flann said when they wheeled the boy into the recovery room and left him to the nurses. “Let’s head that way.”

  Glenn nodded. She should be tired, with almost no sleep for two nights running, but the last thing she wanted was to face the empty bed she’d last shared with Mari. “What about Abby—should we go get her and Blake?”

  Flann shook her head. “Abby’s been working nights all week, and the two of them aren’t early risers anyhow. I’ll bring them home something from the farm.”

  “How is it, adjusting, you know, to a family?”

  Flann shrugged as they walked out into the dawn. “Weird, but it feels like it’s always been this way, or at least it always should’ve been this way and I was just too dumb to know it. Abby and Blake are as much a part of me as the rest of my family. I can’t imagine life without them.”

  A twinge stabbed at the soft spot behind Glenn’s breastbone. An attachment like that, a need like that, was more dangerous than anything she’d ever experienced or wanted to think about. She wasn’t cut out for family attachments, hadn’t been raised to it the way Flann and the rest of the Rivers sisters were. She was born a loner and had learned to be alone, and maybe she should stop fighting the natural order of things.

  “Suits you.”

  Flann grinned, and they rode in easy silence the short distance to the homestead. Flann parked under the portico and they walked around the back to the porch and through the kitchen door. Ida turned from where she had been removing a tray of biscuits from the oven and looked them over.

  “You two look like you’ve been up all night. Coffee is hot.”

  “Morning, Mama,” Flann said, kissing Ida’s cheek and reaching around her for one of the strips of bacon draining on a paper-towel-covered platter.

  Ida gave Flann a light slap on the shoulder. “You can take one because I know you’ve been working hard, but just one.” She smiled over at Glenn. “You too.”

  Glenn shook her head. “I’m good till breakfast.”

  “Won’t be long. Edward and Margie should be down shortly.” She looked a little wistful for a second. “Breakfasts are a lot quieter these days than they used to be.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Flann said gently. “Before too long, you’ll have grandkids spending the night, and you’ll wish for a little peace and quiet.”

  Ida patted Flann’s cheek. “Well, I’ve already got two, now don’t I, and one big enough to be coming around on his own. You make sure Blake knows he can stop by whenever he wants.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that,” Flann said, her voice unusually husky.

  Ida raised an eyebrow in Glenn’s direction. “You’ve been scarce lately. Working too hard, I imagine.”

  “No more than usual.” Glenn settled with a cup of coffee at her usual place at the table. That might not be strictly truthful, but trying to give Mari the distance she apparently wanted had cut down on some of the time she spent in the ER. The hours they’d spent wrapped up in each other probably weren’t going to change that. When Mari had left the day before, neither of them had suggested plans to get together again. Glenn sighed. When she looked up from her coffee, Ida and Flann were regarding her curiously. She straightened, hoping to look nonchalant. “Just getting used to the new routine down in the ER.”

  “I imagine you miss keeping this one in line.” Ida pointed a spatula affectionately in Flann’s direction.

  Flann laughed. “Oh yeah, like I need supervision.” She paused, shot Glenn a look. “Although Glenn might need a wingman these days, seeing how she’s starting to make a little more time with the ladies.”

  “I imagine that’s Glenn’s business and none of yours,” Ida said soundly and pointed Flann toward a chair. “Sit. Your father’s on his way down.”

  Glenn didn’t hear anything for a few seconds and then picked out the steady fall of footsteps approaching down the hall. She couldn’t imagine being that tuned in to another person, not until she thought about waking next to Mari, feeling the weight of Mari’s head on her shoulder, the featherlight touch of Mari’s fingertips resting gently on her abdomen, their heartbeats slowly beating in time. Oh yes, she could imagine it with equal parts wonder and fear. What would happen if that fragile, essential connection broke?

  “Eggs?” Ida’s voice shattered her reverie.

  “Oh, sure. Anything,” Glenn said.

  Edward and Margie sat at the table and the room filled with conversation. Like the rest of the Rivers family Margie was a morning person, and despite it being only six thirty on a Sunday morning, she eagerly questioned Flann and Glenn about the case they’d done the night before.

  When Edward got up to leave for hospital rounds, Flann said, “Can I take a care package home for Abby and Blake?”

  “Already put one together,” Ida said. “Bacon and egg sandwiches. Two each.”

  “That might be enough for Blake,” Flann said, grinning. “He seems to be in the midst of a growth spurt.”

  “You ought to take it before it gets cold,” Ida said.

  “Let me help you clean up.”

  Glenn stood and began to gather the plates. “I’ll take care of that, you go ahead.”

  “Sure?” Flann asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Flann clapped her on the shoulder and grabbed the bag Ida had prepared. “Thanks. I’ll run by the hospital later this morning and check on our postop.”

  “I’ll do that.” Glenn shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else going on today.”

  Flann hesitated. “How will you get home?”

  “I’ll take her,” Margie chimed in.

  Flann laughed. “Any excuse to drive, huh?”

  Margie grinned and Glenn caught a glimpse of the beauty she was going to be in another year or two. Her face was already leaner than a few months ago, her cheekbones strong and arched, her wide blue eyes deep set and the color of the sky on a hot summer day.

  “Thanks.” Flann kissed her mother, ruffled Margie’s hair, and headed out the back door.

  In a few minutes, the table was cleared and Ida was sitting on the back porch drinking her coffee and perusing the Sunday paper. Glenn kissed her cheek, said good-bye, and followed Margie down the drive to where the old pickup was pulled up beside the barn. She climbed in as Margie got behind the wheel.

  Margie didn’t turn on the engine right away, but swiveled on the seat and glanced at Glenn. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Glenn rolled down her window and the breeze off the pasture blew through. A creek ran behind the barn on its way down to the river, dividing two of the larger fields, and the scent of corn and fresh-cut hay lofted in.

  “Blake told me about the surgery,” Margie said, “and that he and Abby and Flann talked it all over and it’s no big deal.”

  Glenn waited.

  “I’ve seen the videos too,” Margie said.

  “Uh-huh.”r />
  Margie tapped her fingers against the wheel, looked out through the windshield before glancing directly into Glenn’s eyes. “Sometimes when you’re afraid, you don’t want the people who lo…care about you to be scared too, so you pretend you’re not.” She snorted. “Like pretending to be strong is what matters the most.”

  Glenn swallowed. She knew a lot about pretending not to be afraid so the ones who depended upon her wouldn’t be paralyzed by their own fear. Was that how Mari felt, refusing to let anyone close to protect them from the fear she felt inside?

  She refocused on Margie. “You know, Blake’s surgery, that’s private stuff.”

  Margie nodded quickly. “I know that. It’s okay, I got the gist. He tells me pretty much everything.” She grinned. “Well, maybe not everything. You have to have your secrets, right?”

  “Right.” Glenn wasn’t really so sure about that. She didn’t seem to have any secrets left where Mari was concerned, whether she told her or not. Mari just sensed how she felt, what she needed. “So what are you worried about?”

  “You and Flann, you’ll make sure nothing happens to him, right? You know, some weird-ass thing that nobody expects?” Margie sighed. “Because I think he’s maybe just a little scared.”

  “The chance of anything serious going wrong is really, really, really small.” Glenn held Margie’s gaze. “But anything can happen, anytime, to anyone. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” Margie said softly. “Like Kate. My dad and Harper and Flann couldn’t save her. If all of them together couldn’t save her…” She shook her head, took a deep breath. “They don’t talk about it, but I know they’re really sad that they couldn’t.”

  Glenn clasped Margie’s hand tightly. “That’s not going to happen to Blake. Flann and I, and Abby too, will take care of him.” Sometimes, after the hard truth, hope was the most important gift. Without hope, the struggle was too hard.

  Margie’s eyes cleared. “Okay, yeah. I knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it, I guess.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You’ll tell him that, right?”